Lord Of The Lost

'The Secrets of the Black Forest'

Little Bob leaned back against the weathered trunk of an old oak tree, letting the memories of the Black Forest wash over him like the gentle breeze rustling the leaves above. He recalled the countless changes that had unfolded in this mystical place, a land steeped in mystery and magic.

Nestled on the edge of the wilderness lay Border Town, a small settlement that served as the gateway between civilization and the untamed wilds. Surrounding it, villages dotted the landscape, forming a protective circle that marked the boundary between the familiar and the unknown.

Beyond this circle, the Black Forest thrived, alive with vibrant flora and fauna that whispered of ancient enchantments.

In his younger days, Bob often ventured into the heart of the forest, armed with nothing but a wicker basket and a heart full of curiosity. "Look at these wild berries!" he would exclaim to his friends, holding up plump, red treasures. He would spend hours collecting herbs, fascinated by their fragrant aromas, or observing small animals as they scurried about.

With patience and a gentle hand, he trained them, hoping they would one day serve as eyes and ears for the hunters.

As the son of a hunter, Bob had a unique bond with nature. He felt at home among the towering trees and babbling brooks, where every rustle could reveal a hidden secret. But everything changed when he turned twelve and encountered a presence unlike any other.

One fateful day, while exploring a familiar grove, Bob spotted a figure cloaked in shadows. The black magician, shrouded in a long, tattered cloak, stood before him, the air around him crackling with an unsettling energy. Bob's heart raced with a mix of fear and intrigue. It was rare to see such a being in the quiet Border Town.

"Who are you?" Bob asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The magician turned, revealing a face that, though stern, held a spark of curiosity. "I am a seeker of knowledge, young one. What brings you to this part of the forest?"

To Bob's surprise, the dark figure did not harm him. Instead, they struck up an unexpected conversation, the forest filling with the rich scent of barbecued game as they shared a meal together. "You're not what I expected," Bob remarked, eyeing the magician cautiously. "I thought black magic was… evil."

The magician chuckled, a sound that echoed through the trees. "Evil? Perhaps, but only if misused. I seek understanding. I need a place where I can delve into my research without disturbance, and this forest—" he gestured around them, "—is perfect. It pulses with the very soul of nature."

"What kind of research?" Bob pressed, his youthful curiosity piqued.

The magician's eyes glinted with a fervor that both fascinated and frightened Bob. "I am uncovering new ways to harness power. Imagine a world transformed! If I can interpret this energy correctly, it will change everything we know."

As the magician spoke, he unveiled his work; a living mass of flesh and blood, writhing and pulsating in a way that sent chills down Bob's spine. "What is that?" Bob gasped, stepping back.

"Fear not," the magician replied, his voice steady. "Though it appears mad, it holds untold potential. The key lies in finding the right path through the chaos. Even madness can be tamed, my boy."

Bob felt a wave of disgust wash over him. The very essence of life seemed twisted in front of him. "But… why do you want to do this?"

"To become something greater," the magician replied, his gaze distant. "To become a god."

Yet, the magician's ambitions would soon spiral beyond his control. The delicate balance of the Black Forest shattered, unleashing chaos that swept through the woods like wildfire. Whispers of unrest filled the air, and the king's guards were summoned to restore order, their armor glinting ominously in the fading light.

In the aftermath of the turmoil, the once tranquil forest was left scarred. The black magician vanished amidst the chaos, leaving behind a legacy of fear and curiosity in the heart of a young boy who had dared to dream.

Little Bob stood at the edge of the forest, looking back at the shadows that danced among the trees. He would carry the memories of that encounter forever, a reminder of the thin line between wonder and terror.

Little Bob stood at the edge of the Black Forest, his eyes scanning the dark, twisting trees. He had never forgotten that strange encounter from years ago, deep in the heart of these woods. Now, as an older and stronger hunter, he felt the pull of the forest once more, but something was different this time.

The air was heavier, almost suffocating, and the whispers of nature seemed quieter, as though the forest itself was holding its breath.

The king's guards had claimed they had suppressed the unrest ten years ago. They boasted that the source of the disaster had been sealed. But Bob knew better. He had always known better. The guards had returned empty-handed, leaving behind a broken forest and a promise unfulfilled. The truth, as he had pieced together, was far more unsettling.

"They didn't stop the madness," Bob muttered to himself, his grip tightening on his bow. "They only pushed it back, forced it to slumber. But it's still here, growing in the dark."

Indeed, the power that had wreaked havoc on the Black Forest hadn't been destroyed. It had merely retreated, lying dormant like a seed waiting to sprout. The king's men had rushed in and rushed out, eager to be rid of the cursed place, and never cared to understand the true nature of the disaster. A few survivors had returned to report, but none had stayed to investigate further.

Now, that dangerous magic was stirring once again, like a monster waking from a long sleep, and Bob could feel its tremors reverberating beneath the soil.

Bob's thoughts drifted to the townspeople. The king had once ordered witches to migrate to the Black Forest to act as guardians of the border. Yet, as was so often the case, the plan had faltered. Somewhere along the way, the order had been lost, or misunderstood, and only a lone wolf lord had arrived with a newborn witch to the town and Moonlight Village.

That wasn't nearly enough to ward off the danger that lurked in the woods.

Bob had tried to sound the alarm. He had spoken to Old Bob and even the priest at the church, hoping they would listen to reason, but all he got in return were shakes of the head and dismissive glances. "It's not our fight," they told him. "Even if we gathered every able-bodied fighter in Border Town, we wouldn't stand a chance against the Black Forest."

"But we can't ignore it forever," Bob had argued. "If we do nothing, it will come for us."

Old Bob, who had survived countless winters and knew more about the Black Forest than anyone, simply sighed. "We can't put all our lives on the line for a forest that's already cursed, boy. That would be suicide."

Despite their warnings, Little Bob refused to give up. He kept a close eye on the forest from the village's outskirts, his sharp eyes tracking every shift in the shadows. It wasn't long before he noticed something strange. On every full-moon night, the Black Forest's dark energy seemed to weaken, as though its malevolent power was at its lowest ebb. This was the window he had been waiting for.

"It's time," he said to himself one evening, as the full moon climbed into the sky. "I've become stronger than my father ever was. We can't ignore this curse any longer."

He packed his gear and steeled himself for the journey ahead. "I don't know where this will end," he murmured, as he strapped his knife to his side. "But I need to find that black magician. The one who started all this. He has to be the one to end it."

Stepping into the Black Forest once again, Bob immediately sensed how different it had become. Gone were the lively, enchanted woods he remembered from his youth. In their place was a sickly landscape, the soil dark and grey, the plants twisted and strange, as if life itself had been corrupted.

"The Moon Goddess once said that nature heals all wounds," Bob whispered, "but what if the wound is nature itself?"

With every step deeper into the forest, Bob felt a profound sadness settle over him. This was the land he had grown up in, the place that had once been his playground. Now it was a shadow of its former self, consumed by the curse. He could feel the madness that the guards had suppressed years ago stirring beneath the surface, restless and hungry.

"We can't delay any longer," Bob thought, his heart pounding with urgency. He moved swiftly through the twisted underbrush, barely making a sound. Strangely, his passage was unhindered. No animals stirred, no eyes followed his movements. It was as if no living soul had ventured here in a long time.

At last, he reached the deepest part of the forest, the place where he had once met the black magician all those years ago. And there, by the small pond where they had shared a meal, the magician sat; only now, he was a shadow of the man Bob had once known.

The magician's once fiery gaze was now dull, his cloak tattered and covered in dirt. He rocked gently, mumbling incoherently to himself, as though locked in conversation with ghosts only he could hear.

"You," Bob said, stepping forward. His voice was firm, but his heart was heavy. "You have to end this."

The black magician slowly lifted his head, his eyes focusing on Bob with a faint spark of recognition. But there was no longer any wisdom or power in his gaze. Only madness.

"It's too late," the magician whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind rustling through the dead trees. "The seed has already taken root... soon, it will consume everything."

Bob's blood ran cold. The fight had just begun, but the magician was right. The curse of the Black Forest was not over; it was only just beginning.

"I always hoped he could fix it," Bob whispered, his voice thick with regret. He stared at the lifeless body of the black magician, now twisted into something barely human. "But how could I have been so blind? If he had the power to solve this, how could the disaster ever have happened?"

His thoughts were clouded with doubt, a gnawing sense of hopelessness that had followed him ever since the black magician's descent into madness. Bob had clung to the hope that somewhere, somehow, there was a way to end the curse. But now, faced with the cold reality, he saw the truth.

"I foolishly believed there was a solution," he continued, his voice breaking. "But the truth… the truth is cruel."

The weight of those words hung in the air, and Bob closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight of the Black Forest, now a wasteland of corrupted magic and monstrous growths.

"They called him the Master of Dark Magic," he said bitterly. "Respected, feared, even among the dark magicians. His mastery of spells was unmatched. Even after becoming a monster, he still remembered how to cast those spells. The battle… it was unlike anything I'd ever faced."

Bob shuddered as he recalled the chaotic clash. Magic had cracked the very earth beneath their feet, and the forest screamed with unnatural life. His friends had fought alongside him, but it had taken all of their strength to bring down the creature the magician had become.

"I managed to kill him," Bob muttered, though the words didn't bring the satisfaction he'd expected. "But I was seriously injured. And now… now I don't know if these alien plants will save me or doom me."

He glanced at the strange, bleeding flora that surrounded him, their dark red sap oozing like blood. His intuition screamed at him to stay away, to not trust the forest's twisted gifts. "If I use them to heal my wounds," he thought, "I'll become like him. A monster."

Bob's vision blurred, and he felt his life slipping away with each passing moment. The pain, the weight of his injuries, was unbearable. "Is this the curse of the Black Forest claiming me?" he wondered, his voice barely audible. "What did I miss? What crucial thing have I forgotten?"

The world around him began to spin, and as darkness crept in at the edges of his vision, he murmured, "Is this the end?"

---

Years later, William carefully opened a page of Bob's old, blood-stained journal. The handwriting was almost illegible, scrawled in a frantic, desperate hand. Her heart pounded as she read, her eyes skimming over the final, chaotic entries.

These weren't Bob's last words. Not the final words of the boy she had once known.

Instead, a series of bright red, jagged characters leapt from the page, their sharp edges so vicious they seemed to tear at the paper itself. The letters had a sinister energy about them, as though they hadn't been written by a human hand at all.

"I'm awake… The lives that died in the Black Forest can become monsters!"

William's breath caught in her throat as she read on, the words unraveling before her, painting a picture of madness.

"Is it the blessing of the Moonlight Goddess that's keeping me from completely losing myself?" Bob's voice, once so steady, now seemed to teeter on the brink of sanity. "I feel like I've forgotten something; something important."

"I am crazy and sane at the same time," the next line read. "I've never tasted alcohol, but this feels like being drunk, like the blacksmith uncle once described. Except it's worse. Much worse."

William's fingers trembled as she turned the page. The story was unraveling into something far darker than she'd imagined.

"I want to die," Bob had written, "but I can't. Not in the Black Forest. I've tried, but every time I die, I come back. And I'm even more mad than before."

The anguish in his words was palpable, his agony spilling out with every stroke of the pen. "I can't bear it. I'm trapped between madness and clarity, and it's tearing me apart."

Somehow, in his tormented state, Bob had managed to leave the Black Forest. He hadn't known where he was going: he had just wanted to escape. But then, as if by fate, he encountered Little Red Riding Hood.

"She recognized me," Bob had written, the memory seemingly offering him a brief moment of clarity. "She was sad; said her grandmother was ill. She asked me to come with her to find the witch. She thought the witch could cure me… and her grandmother."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Bob had found hope. "Meeting Little Red Riding Hood reminded me of my humanity," he wrote, the words filled with a flicker of light. "I agreed. If the witch can't cure me, then maybe she can poison this monster to death."

But even in this glimmer of hope, a shadow lingered in his mind. "I suddenly remembered… when I was fighting against the madness, there was something… someone… following me. A figure in black."

The words grew more erratic, scrawled as if Bob had been in a frenzy. "He followed me out of the Black Forest! My memory is distorted! Twisted!"

The final sentence was written with such force that the ink had nearly torn through the paper. "My memory is shattered!"

William stared at the page, her heart racing. The words were blinding in their intensity, bright red and almost painful to look at. Bob's descent into madness had been real, and yet, somewhere within him, a part of his humanity had fought desperately to survive.

But who or what had followed him out of the Black Forest? And what had become of the curse he had tried so hard to escape?

The answer, it seemed, was still out there, hidden in the depths of the cursed woods.